"Feels weird now, you know? Like, I can't just keep calling it that after everything."
"Totally get it," she says, propping her chin on her hand. "So, what are you thinking? A new name?"
"Exactly," I reply. "But I'm drawing a blank. Everything I think of just seems to lead back to him, and that's the last thing I want."
"Okay, let's brainstorm. How about... 'The Maverick'? It's rebellious, independent, and doesn't follow anyone’s rules." Jordan offers the suggestion with a serious look, making me chuckle.
"Or... 'Mr. Buzz-a-lot'?" I quip.
"Creative," she laughs, "but maybe something a bit more... chic? How about 'The Gentleman Caller'?"
"Sounds like a Victorian-era vibrator," I snort.
"Right, right," she agrees, giggling along. "We need something empowering. Something that screams 'Harper Phillips: Woman in control of her own pleasure.'"
"Ooh, how about 'The Empower-mint'?" I suggest, the pun making us both dissolve into fits of laughter.
"Because nothing says 'sexy' like fresh breath," Jordan teases, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.
"Let's see... 'Solo Rider'? 'Liberty Bell'? 'Lone Star' since we're in Texas?" She rattles off names.
"Those sound like cowboy-themed adult films," I point out, and we're back to laughing, the absurdity of the situation a much-needed reprieve from the heartache that had consumed me earlier.
"Okay, okay," she says, finally catching her breath. "How about 'Phoenix'? You know, rising from the ashes of your past relationship and all that jazz."
"Phoenix..." I murmur. “I don’t know.”
I twist a strand of my red hair around my finger in uncertainty.
"Come on, Harper, you've got to admit 'The Pleasure Pioneer' has a nice ring to it," she says, a mischievous glint in her green eyes mirroring mine.
I want to laugh, I really do, but the weight of 'Eighty-Five' is like an anchor, pulling me back into depths I'm not ready to leave. "It's clever, Jor, it really is," I sigh, the humor fizzling out as quickly as it sparked.
"Harper," Jordan begins tentatively, sensing the shift, "if none of these feel right, maybe it's okay to take some time. You don't have to decide on anything tonight."
It’s hard because 'Eighty-Five' wasn’t just a name; it was Taylor and late-night giggles, spontaneous ventures beneath sheets, a secret shared between lovers. Now, it's a reminder of everything I've lost.
"Maybe I should just throw it away," I mutter, the thought slicing through me sharper than I expect.
"Hey, no," Jordan reaches over, squeezing my hand gently. "That's part of your power, Harp. Don't let Taylor take that from you, too."
Her words land, soft but firm, reminding me of the strength I've built within myself, apart from anyone else. I nod in response slowly.
"Alright," I say, mustering a small smile. "No new names tonight. 'Eighty-Five' can stay... for now."
"Good choice." Jordan nods.
"Besides," I continue, my voice steadier than before, "who says I need a toy when I've got two perfectly good hands?"
Jordan bursts into laughter, and this time, I join her.
Chapter 19
Taylor
My eyes struggle open, making my head pound in response to the light creeping through the cracks in the curtains. Groaning, I shift on Mike's couch, which feels about as soft as concrete for my oversized frame. The fabric of my clothes clings to my skin from the unknown number of hours spent marinating in a drunken stupor.
"Ugh," escapes my lips, half-groan, half-sigh. My hand presses against my forehead while my legs dangle over the edge of the couch like an overgrown plant. I sit up with effort as the room tilts dangerously. Taking a steadying breath, I will my stomach to keep its contents to itself.
